The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1887-09-15
THE CRY OF THE VULTURE.


tween is given over to the coyote, the
rattlesnake, and the savage.
Camp Robinson is an even hundred
miles to the northwest, on the very
headwaters of the White, and the
country between might well be written
| down as accursed.
1t is high noon by the silver watch
which the scout pulls from his pocket
| as his mule comes to a sudden halt at
the spring and plunges his nose into
clear, cold water until he must shut
his eyes. From Fort Sully to Camp
Robinson with military orders. just
half the ride has been completed.
Two hundred miles through lands
accursed with venomous serpents,
sneaking coyotes, savage wolves,
Indian devils-with memories of
score of massacres - with remem-
ORANGES of tomahawk and scalping
knife, and eXultant warriors. They
babe this man good-by as he rode from
the fort and they parted with him a S
if he were going to his death. They
| watched him as he rode away into the
gloom of the evening, and when the
shadows had swallowed him up there
rose up in his place, seeming to be
painted across the sombre curtain of
night, the legend:
CHARLEY GRAY,
GOVT SCOUT AND DISPATCH RIDER,
CAPTURED BY DEMONS SEPT. Is, 1868,
TORTURED TO DEATH SAME DATE.
GENTLE, BRAVE, AND FEARLESS.
ERECTED TO HIS MEMORY BY LOVING
FRIENDS AND COMRADES.
Men read the legend and turned
away with a shiver. Two hundred
miles of snake and wolf and demonl 1t
was taking terrible chances.
1t had been rough ride, with scarce
Iy an hours halt for rest, and the
mule drank as if long deprived of wa
ter. Little by little he raised his
head from the spring, and at last he
lifted his nose clear out of the water
with an "o-o-o-ff!" of satisfaction. The
mans tongue burned for water, but
he did not hurry his movements. He
began at the peak on his right and
carefully looked over the ground in
quarter-circle to the north. Then he
turned in his saddle and made the sur
vey half-circle. Then he lifted himself
in the stirrups and surveyed the ground
to the left, to the right, in front, and
his circle was complete.
Itwas plain, sterile, parched, broken
and ridged-lands which produce only
for reptiles and wild beasts A ser
pent lay basking in the sun few yards
distant. A gaunt, wild-eyed wolf
peered out from behind rock scarce
pistol shot away and CRASHED his teeth
in disappointment that it was not
other game. The scout smiled with
satisfaction. He could detect nothing
of the foe he most dreaded. He leaps
to the ground, strips off the saddle,
and while the mule picks at the sweet
grass around the spring the scout
breaks his fast from the bread and
meat in his haversack.
"Hi-ek Hi-ekl Hi~ek!"
1t is the call of vulture, sailing in
| circles over the spring Did you ever
see vulture of the plain? A heavy
bodied bird of sombre color, with fierce
beak and talons like the claws of
tiger. The living are nothing to him;
death is his feast.
''Hi-ek! Hi-ek! Hi-ckr'
When you hear that cry look out
Death is close at hand.
At the second call the mule raised
his head in a startled way and cast
swift glance on every side. The scout
was slower in his movements He
loosened his revolver before he moved,
and as he rose up he had his rifle in
! his hands.
"Hi-ek! Hi-ek! Hi-ek!"
What is it? The man turns slowly
| on his heel to sean the country, and
brave and fearless as he is his heart
| increases its beats and his eyes betray
| anxiety. The vulture is never mistaken.
The death-call is never uttered without
| reason. There are three minutes of
such suspense as try mems nerves-of
such silence that the flap! flap! of the
vulture's great wings can be heard as
he sails his circle
''Hi-eki Hi-!'
All! A score of Sayages suddenly ap-
pear on the crest of the ridge half a
mile to the west, each one painted and
bedecked - each one mounted and
thirsting for blood. They have been
in ambush for hours, and now their
waiting has been rewarded. They
wheel to the right and the left until
they are in line. Not war whoop
has been uttered-not shout has
| broken the silence. The. scout faces
them. en-fifteen-twen-
ty-two!
An even hundred miles to Fort Sui
ly! An even hundred miles to Camp
Robinson! One to twenty-five!
''Hi-eki Hi-ek! Hi-ek" screams the
buzzard in eXultation.
The bronze which the summer sun of
the West has burned upon the scouts
cheeks pales a little as the line adj
vances to encircle him. and his fingers
tighten on his rifle until the clutch
would make human flesh cry out in
agony, but there is never a culver of
the lip-neyer tremble of the limb.
Now the fight opens. There is shout
and shot and swift circling. The
hoarse cries of the vulture min@le with
the fierce screams of the warriors, and
echo back the defiant shouts of the
scout.
Now the circle contracts. Two war
riors have been struck from their fiv-
iGg ponies and two ponies have been
lldltl ull. hey luuSb ClpSt WIFI MIN
or numbers will not count against his
steady eye and iron nerve.
"Hi-ek! Hi-eki Hiyekp'
The scout is down and the mule,
wounded to the death, has broken
through the circle with mad rush. 1t
were better if the bullet which tore up
the scalp and rendered the brave man
unconscious for period had pene-
trated to the brain. When he opens
his eyes again he is disarmed and a
prisoner. He looks from face to face
Not one CLEAN of mercy-not one line
of pity.
In after days some other scout, rid
ing with life in hand as did this one,
may stop at the spring. He will see
the ashes of fire, few bones, bits
of clothing scattered about, pile of